


'neath the shadow of ash, elm & willow

by whalersandsailors



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, But also, Fluff without Plot, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Skinny Dipping, They live and they're happy darn it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-13 07:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20170228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalersandsailors/pseuds/whalersandsailors
Summary: 1851: They are home again, and safe again. Thomas and Edward visit family in the country and find the opportunity to take a swim.





	'neath the shadow of ash, elm & willow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sol_Invictus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sol_Invictus/gifts).

Breaking the surface of the water is like dipping his whole body in ice. Even at the height of summer, with a round sun overhead, the crystalline waters have a chilling bite. Thomas's body seizes, but he at least has the good sense to keep his mouth shut, no matter how much the sudden cold makes him want to gasp.

The force of his jump from the dock propels him nearly to the bottom of the pool, but just as his bare toes graze sand and rocks, he is pumping his arms to pull himself back to the surface. Unfamiliar as he still is with swimming, with the willful act of jumping into water, he opens his eyes as he swims up. The sun is a wavering beacon through the ripples of water and the layers of bubbles mapping his descent. His eyes sting from the pondwater, but he does not close them. Another shape, a blur of strong legs and a freckled chest come into view just as his head reaches the top, and he gasps, pushing his hair off his face and wiping water from his eyes.

Edward is beside him, treading the water with far more grace than Thomas can manage with only a week's worth of swimming lessons to his name. Edward is grinning at him as he pushes through the water to get closer. His hair, grown long and wavy during their summer in the country, is a wild mess on his head that complements the roguish slant of his mouth.

“You’re getting better!” Edward says as he circles around Thomas, moving with ease through the water.

“Anything that isn’t drowning is better,” Thomas retorts, splashing Edward lightly.

That was a mistake, for a devilish gleam sparks in Edward’s eye. He dives under the water momentarily only to grab Thomas by the legs and pull. Thomas yells out, but before he can properly retaliate, Edward is swimming away, giving a playful splash with his feet as kicks out of Thomas’s reach.

Thomas tries to match Edward’s example, moving his feet, but when he feels himself sinking, he panics and pushes his arms with such force that he agitates the water ferociously and pitches himself toward Edward. Laughing, the man swims forward to catch him, wrapping one arm securely around Thomas's waist and kicking his legs to keep their heads above the water.

Secure in Edward’s hold, Thomas is unable to stop himself from laughing as well. He loops his arms around Edward's bare shoulders and presses a long kiss to his cheek.

No one but twittering birds and lazy clouds are here to watch them. The pond is several miles from the house, and its bank is fenced by thick reeds and bent willows, the foliage creating a safe haven, obscuring the pond from any view from the winding paths in the neighboring pasture. The dock was small but sturdy, extending a short distance over the shallow water, its wood sun-bleached and mossy. Edward had explained to Thomas – his eyes looking at Thomas through his lashes, a shy but persistent smile tugging at his lips – that he had built the dock with his brother Clifton when they were boys and had claimed the pond on the property as their fishing hole. Thomas had smiled at the story and the pride coloring Edward’s voice.

The topic of the pond came up at dinner two weeks prior when Thomas met Edward’s eldest brother Stephen and his wife, who were graciously hosting the two of them at the Little family’s country estate. Edward had inquired about the fishing pond, seemingly out the blue, and with a fond yet long-suffering sigh, Stephen turned to Thomas and assured him that Edward need not worry, for the pond was exactly as _Ned and Cliff _had left it.

For the week following, Thomas and Edward visited the pond nearly every day, especially since Edward developed an itch that he would like to teach Thomas the joys of fishing and swimming, to which Thomas relented, more for the opportunity to have his Edward completely to himself, away from the family and their all-too-meaningful glances.

Today, Thomas attempted for the first time to ride his own horse instead of slipping into a saddle behind Edward and hugging his midsection tight. Edward assured him that Nell was sweet-mannered and needed no direction but another horse to follow, and much to Thomas’s relief, the speckled mare trotted behind Edward’s larger, copper-colored stallion with no fuss. Both horses are now tethered to one of the larger trees, grazing where the grass grows tall and thick. Nearby, Thomas has lain a flannel blanket on the grass, where he and Edward deposited their clothes and their lunch; sandwiches and pears wrapped in cheesecloth.

The only noise is the splashing of water, the soft snickering of the horses, birdsong, and buzzing insects. It is a symphony of summer that feels foreign after the absolute silence of the Arctic, but the constant reminder that they are home—the rustling of birds or the singing of crickets—is a small comfort to Thomas. He peers up at the dappled sunlight, where it catches the leaves of willow and ash above their heads, casting the natural ceiling into a vibrant, verdant hue. The more accustomed he grows to the temperature of the pond, the warmer the sun feels along his face and shoulders, and he closes his eyes, basking in the unspoiled luxury of the sun’s warmth.

The water dips against the base of his head, as Edward adjusts his grip, his hand gliding lower down Thomas’s back. With a knowing smirk, Thomas slots one of his legs between Edward’s thighs and clutches his shoulders tighter.

Caught off balance, Edward splutters when water hits his face, and he begins to guide them toward the shallows.

“You'll drown us doing that,” Edward says, no real censure to his words.

Thomas laughs, pressing closer still. He kisses Edward and grins when he feels the jut of Edward's cock stirring against his hip.

“It's not my fault the water's cold,” he says, leaning heavily on Edward once they are in water shallow enough for their feet to rest against the pebbles and silt.

Edward does not answer. Instead, he slips his hand beyond Thomas’s waist, skimming his fingers along the curve of Thomas's arse, ending at the thick of muscle at the top of his hamstring. He flattens his palm and pulls, hoisting Thomas nearly on top of him and pressing their hips together. The water ripples around them, splashing against the bank in a wave. Thomas kisses Edward again, moaning as they rut together, unhurried and languid. Thomas runs his fingers through the wet tangles of Edward's hair as he licks into his mouth, a teasing invitation that they might continue this on shore, when Edward smiles playfully at him and pushes away. He kicks out toward the deep center if the pond, lowering himself beneath the water so only his eyes peer up at Thomas.

Reeling from the barrage of waves caused by Edward, Thomas scoffs.

“Don't think that I'll follow,” he says over the water. “I don't want you to splash me again.”

Edward lifts his face enough that Thomas can see the widening, all too honest grin on his face.

“Very well,” he says as he leans back, floating easily on the water. “But you're missing out.”

Buoyed by the water, Edward's well-muscled legs come into view just under the surface, his belly pale with the small indent of his navel, and nestled in the dark space between his legs lay his cock, hard and half-raised.

Thomas stares, as he knows Edward wants him to, but when he finally drags his gaze to meet Edward’s, he rolls his eyes and starts walking to shore.

Two can play at this, he thinks to himself.

Turned away from Edward, he feels the other man's eyes rake up his legs and back, the gaze heated enough that it sears Thomas’s skin. He is well aware of the effect he has on Edward when he is nude, a discovery made when he fully disrobed for the first time before Edward. It was not even a prelude to a romp in bed, but rather it was morning, both of them sleeping in the same bed and waking side-by-side like a married couple. Thomas divested of his nightshirt before retrieving clean drawers and breeches, and from where he lay on the bed, recollecting a bizarre dream where he and Captain Crozier were on a mountaineering expedition, Edward stopped speaking mid-sentence. Thomas glanced at him confusedly and paused when he saw the other man’s dark eyes roving up and down his body. Both the dream and fresh clothes were momentarily abandoned when Edward sat up just enough to grab Thomas by the arm and pull him back on top of him, where he quickly flipped their positions and soundly kissed him. Edward spent the next twenty minutes thoroughly pre-occupied with cataloguing the image of Thomas Jopson in full; every ridge of muscle, the indent of his hips, the moles scattered across his belly, the dusting of hair on his thighs and chest, and the flushed skin of his neck and cheeks.

Even now, thinking back to that morning, which culminated with Edward’s mouth between his legs and a pair of fingers pumping in and out of him as he writhed beneath his lover, Thomas feels lightheaded and flushed. His cock stirs at the memory, but he resolutely walks toward the blanket on the grass, not allowing himself even one coquettish glance back to Edward. At the edge of the blanket, he makes a show of stretching his arms above his head and bending over to brush some imaginary dirt from his shin before he reclines onto the blanket, his legs comfortably splayed, one hand cushioning his head and the other resting on his belly. He closes his eyes, the sun warm on his face, quickly drying whatever drops of water cling to his skin.

He sighs, willing himself not to fall asleep, as tempting as the notion is, for he knows that while _Little_ may be a patient man, _Edward _is significantly less temperate.

As sure as the blue of the sky above his head, Thomas hears the telltale splash of water as Edward pulls himself onto the dock. Immediately following is nothing but silence, and anticipation creeps through each of Thomas’s limbs, his toes unconsciously curling. A shadow casts over his face, and Thomas feigns sleep as a weight settles beside him.

Edward presses a light kiss on his shoulder before he shifts, and Thomas feels a hand drifting up his calf and stopping at his thigh, massaging the skin the whole way. Turning his face toward Edward, his eyes still closed, Thomas sighs contentedly. Edward continues the massage on his second leg, working past the knob of his hip and rubbing the heel of his palm against his side. Edward plants a lingering kiss right below Thomas’s navel, and when he rubs his nose against the patch of hair there, Thomas sucks in a sharp breath and twitches, instinctively pulling away from the tickling sensation.

Edward is grinning widely at him when Thomas opens his eyes and shoves a hand against his shoulder.

“Edward, _really,_” Thomas admonishes, the edge in his voice cancelled by the growing smile on his lips.

“Is this not what you wanted?” Edward says, teasing, before he flattens his weight against Thomas’s legs, his hands pressed flat on Thomas’s flanks and blows a raspberry on the pale skin.

Squawking, the noise as undignified as Edward’s burst of childish humor, Thomas kicks his legs from underneath Edward and braces his arms against the man’s shoulders, pushing him away. It takes no effort for Thomas to switch their positions, and Edward – a large toothy grin stretching his face and making his eyes squint – flops against the blanket, as his chest heaves from breathy giggles.

Thomas traps Edward’s thighs in place by pinching his knees against them and with his hands pinning his shoulders, he leans close.

“Your behavior is most unbecoming, Mr. Little,” he says, adopting a haughty and nasal tone that only serves to make Edward laugh harder, “What _would _your mother say?”

Sobering after a fresh wave of laughter, Edward frowns thoughtfully, squirming under Thomas.

“I think she would be more distressed by my lack of pants.”

He barely finishes the sentence before he snorts, and Thomas swats his arm. Unable to help himself, Thomas presses his lips against the shallow cleft in Edward’s chin, and his hands slide down Edward’s side, squeezing at the soft give of his stomach, a drastic improvement from the sharp angles of near-starvation. Edward bends his legs enough to press his feet flat against the ground, and he flexes his thighs so that he may push his hips against Thomas, where the heat of their cocks can touch.

Thomas sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering shut, as he moans against the whiskered curve of Edward’s jaw. His hands move from Edward’s shoulders to either side of his head on the blanket, and with his arms free, Edward runs one hand through Thomas’s hair, scratching gently at the scalp. His other arm wraps around Thomas’s waist to better pull the younger man against him.

Thomas presses his knees farther apart, settling more onto Edward, one of his hands jostling in between their bodies to properly guide their cocks together. He takes a moment to savor the delicious sensation of his calloused fingertips moving from the base of his cock to the tip, and accompanied by a gentle roll of his hips, he gives the same attention to Edward, taking extra care to rub slow circles around the head and against the slit of Edward’s cock, smearing the wetness gathering there.

The laughter has dissolved entirely into pleasured hisses and choked moans, and sneaking a glance up, Thomas is pleased to see his effect on Edward as the man’s head has tipped back, eyes screwed shut and mouth fallen open.

Keeping his hand and fingers loosely wrapped around both their cocks, Thomas places a chaste kiss on Edward’s bottom lip. Immediately, Edward’s lips purse, and he leans up, catching Thomas’s lip between his teeth and swiping his tongue against the swollen skin. The pace Thomas sets for them is excruciatingly and tantalizingly slow, but with the warmth of the sun spilling over his back and the droplets from the pond replaced by a thin sheen of sweat behind his knees and at the base of his spine, the quiet rustling of reeds and tree branches joining with Edward’s breathy moans, Thomas cherishes the absolute luxury of savoring his lover, basking in this private sanctuary of theirs.

Their times on ship were frantic always, an underlying fear of discovery marring their every encounter, and on the ice, their stolen rendezvous shriveled to nothing, where too much was misunderstood, and too little said, and no other goal in mind than the ever animal grit to survive.

Edward whimpers against his mouth, the arm around Thomas tightening as he desperately tries to quicken the pace. His cock twitches in Thomas’s fingers, and mercifully, Thomas squeezes his grip. Breaking away from their messy kisses, Thomas nuzzles the shell of Edward’s ear.

“Tell me, Ned,” he whispers coyly, smiling when his warm breath makes Edward’s voice hitch; “am I the first lover you’ve brought here?”

Edward sighs, starts to answer, but is interrupted by a long, deep moan tearing from him when Thomas expertly bends his wrist, tugging at Edward’s cock, the sensation strengthened by Thomas’s weight bearing down on him.

“Did you also kiss and caress them by the water, on a picnic blanket?” He nips Edward’s earlobe. “Or did you fuck them on the dock, still wet from the pond?”

Edward opens his eyes, his pupils blown, his eyes as black as coal, their heat scorching as Edward grips Thomas’s jaw and slots their lips together into a deep kiss, the pumping of their hips near frantic.

Whispering hotly against Edward’s lips, his tongue poking from between his teeth, Thomas says, “Do you know what I would do, if it were me?”

He squeezes his fingers, and an unsteady moan escapes Edward.

“I would lay them down under the shade of the ash tree, on the sandy part of the bank, close enough to the water to feel it against our legs—” Edward is trembling; Thomas pumps his hand faster. “I would kiss and lick them from their cheeks to their cock. I would taste them and open them with my tongue, and when it becomes too much, when they start to cry and beg, I would pull their legs over my shoulders and bugger them until—” His voice catches, as Edward drags blunt nails down his back. “—til they’re senseless from the pleasure, deaf and blind to everything in the world but their own cries and my cock inside them—”

Nearly shouting, the noise caught in his throat, Edward arches up, spilling hard against his stomach. Thomas eases him through it, hand pumping in time, and his mouth sucking on Edward’s rapid pulse. Once the aftershocks fade, Thomas sits back and runs a soothing hand down Edward’s side.

In a moment, Edward opens his eyes and looks at Thomas with wonder, a smirk pulling his lips into something feral.

“You have a vivid imagination, Tom.”

Thomas shrugs one of his shoulders, the apples of his cheeks pink as he smiles sweetly. He drags his forefinger through the spend on Edward’s stomach and brings it to his mouth. Edward makes a choked noise, his nails digging into Thomas’s thighs.

“Here,” Edward says, urgency and arousal making his voice quake, “Come closer.”

He beckons with a hand, and once Thomas understands, heat pools in the pit of his stomach with almost unbearable intensity. He shifts his weight forward until his knees frame Edward’s head. The man’s arms snake around his legs, palms massaging the skin of Thomas’s lower back and rear. Thomas is careful to keep most of his weight off Edward, but when Edward’s soft lips and warm tongue envelope the head of his cock, Thomas feels his composure crack. His legs tremble enough that he has to lean forward, stabilizing himself on his arms, while Edward takes him deeper. The pressure mounts, and as Thomas runs the back of his knuckles along Edward’s hairline and down his cheek, he concentrates on keeping his hips still.

“Ned, Ned, yes, oh—” The words spilling from his lips are near incoherent, and he curls tighter over Edward, the pleasure and exertion making his arms quiver.

Edward makes a muffled sound around his cock, the vibration sending chills down to Thomas’s toes. Edward uses the hands on Thomas’s rear to guide him forward, and he urges Thomas to thrust shallowly into his mouth.

The pressure becomes too much, and Thomas taps a finger on Edward’s shoulder while rubbing at the sweaty skin.

“Ned, I’m close, I’m—” He cuts himself off with a muted cry, both of his hands stroking up Edward’s neck to tangle into his hair.

A few seconds later, Edward pulls off his softening cock and brings one of his hands to his mouth as he clears his throat and swallows. Thomas’s face blotches, and his strokes his thumb across Edward’s cheekbone.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he says with an equal mixture of fondness and embarrassment.

“I know,” Edward says, smiling, not quite looking Thomas in the eye; “I like to.”

Thomas adjusts his position so that he can press his forehead against Edward’s. They share a languorous kiss, and Thomas cannot help but groan as he tastes the bitter salt of himself on Edward’s tongue. He slides off of Edward to settle on the blanket beside him and lays his head on Edward’s shoulder.

The sun disappears behind a cloud, but the shade is a reprieve from the heat, to which Thomas is still acclimating, his muscles stiff from the three and half years spent in the coldest reaches of the planet. A lark lands on a branch over their heads, and the bird puffs its brown plumage before releasing a mighty, looping trill. Thomas stares up at it in wonder, the lark’s song blending perfectly with the unspoiled tranquility of their surroundings.

Turning into Edward, Thomas’s eyes catch his lover’s, and they share a smile.

“I like this,” Thomas says, simply. “All of it.”

Perhaps it was the approaching end of their holiday, the letter from the Admiralty that Thomas knew lay on Edward’s desk, but the past few years of Thomas’s life have weathered the highs and lows of the Arctic and now home, one staggeringly high and dangerous, the other a deep valley and deceptively calm. For a man who has spent most of his adult years on ships in battle against both man and beast, Thomas craves normality more than anything.

“This will last. We will make it so,” Edward promises him with a kiss to the top of his head, without any need to elaborate on what _this_ exactly was. “We have the rest of our lives.”

The sun emerges from behind the cloud, jubilant and omniscient, so that when Thomas closes his eyes, he hides his tears behind his lashes, his heart full and brimming.

“We do,” Thomas says as he turns his face into Edward’s chest; “We do.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://whalersandsailors.tumblr.com)


End file.
